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I never told you what I do for a living

His breathing is soft against my cheek, soft and silent, yet eyes of cold, hard steel bear down upon mine, as if privately accusing my actions. We sit there, snuggled into each other’s shoulders, never wanting to let go; tradition, spiteful tradition telling us this is wrong, but we never listen. The love we hold for each other is far too strong. Though tonight, each and every kiss he plants upon my face feels surreal, staged. I ignore the feeling for his sake, and continue sucking his lips.

The moon blinks down at us, full and bright; a golden globe of mystery. Without warning, Draco pulls away from our passion, as if suddenly afraid. Then slowly he takes my hands in his, and whispers that things are changing, that he is not the man I used to love. I shake my head, but he never stops. The words he speaks are cruel, like the icy sharp perforated sides to a saw. He says, he is a lie and that our love will soon die, cast away by the horror of truth. I move away from his touch, scolded and hurt by his choice of words.

I choke, touching my eye lids. They are wet; moistened by my emotions. I gulp soundlessly, staring up into the shadowy blanket of night, dotted by a scattering of shimmering stars, almost sprinkled like sugar. The trees look like people, standing and waving their arms around. I frown down at the ground.

He responds by pushing a shadowed photo towards me, which I receive with shaking, trembling hands. It is of his mother, screaming, but that is not the reason why it frightens me so much. There is a dark blurred gash of colour that runs down the picture, splashing to the floor. I need only look into his grey eyes to know that it is not paint. It is blood.

“I never told you what I do for a living.”

Stay out of the light
Or the photograph that I gave you

I peer down at the corner of the photo, and gasp. There is a wand on the floor. One that I know, and have come to love. I look at my lover’s wand, blink and step backwards shakily. The wand is the same as the one in the picture. Suddenly, a conclusion rears its head, and I am sickened by what I think. “Draco”, I ask, wrapping my robes tightly around my body, concealing what warmth I can. “Did you kill your mother?” I stutter, suddenly unable to look at him.

He turns away from me, and I cannot interpret his emotions. Can he not bear to see me, because he has actually done this awful thing? He has literally taken her life? Or is it possible that his heart is aching for somebody to hear him speak the real truth? I take his arm in mine, cradling it and letting the photo fall onto the grass.

“Please. I can help you. I will not judge you, whatever you’ve done.” But even as the sentence spills from my lips, I know this is not so. How will I ever be able to forgive him for something as gratuities as this? Had his father pushed him into the act, driven insane by the women to whom he had married?

‘Perhaps,’ I think, now stroking back a strand of Draco’s soft, silky fringe, ‘She was unfaithful, and Lucius ordered him to kill her?’ I need to know. I squeeze his hands gently, feeling them firm and stiff in my grip. It is almost as though he is dead, and the only evidence that he is not, is his breathing, his slow, meticulous breathing and the rise and fall of his chest. I collapse to the grass, questions circling me like crows.

“Draco. Did you do it? Answer me this one question and I will let it stand.”

This time, he does not ignore, but faces me with a defiant stare. “Yes. I had to. Granger,” he growled, sitting down beside her on the ground. “I am not who you think I am.” He paused. “I- am a killer. I work only to serve the Dark Lord, and the next victim I am to murder . . . “ Time nearly stops, and I know the answer even before it is released to the night.

“ It’s me . . . . isn’t it?”

You can say a prayer if you need to
Or, just get in line and I’ll grieve you

He nods brusquely, biting his lip. “The reason is obvious,” he breathed, though even as he spoke, fresh silver tears ran down his pallid complexion. “The Dark Lord wants me to kill anybody who is close to Potter. Mother was the only exception. The only reason”, he whispered solemnly, new tears joining the old, “is because she was weak, and weakness pays in the eyes of Lord Voldemort.” I blink at his courage at having mouthed those words. He puts his head in his hands, then slides one to the inside pocket of his robes. “I have to fulfil his wishes, otherwise he shall kill me too.” I shake my head, wondering for how long he has known, how long he has felt like this for. Draco narrows his eyes and takes me by the arm. “You have to understand, Granger”, he persists. “I need to go. Please see me again, one last time.”

Can I meet you
Another night and I’ll see you

I nod, not knowing why I am. Why am I even listening to him? Everything he told me, all we have ever done together has been a living lie. He has said that he is to kill me, but if the love that he feels for me is as sincere as I believed it once was. . . do I think he will? No. I am most confident he won’t. Even if it means that he has to die. Draco has changed since first year. I look back at my lover’s figure as he slinks meltingly into the darkness. He walks away, faster. Even from such a distance, I know he is crying. His shoulders shake. His hands cover his face, as if concealing the fate he was born to.

Another night and I’ll be you
Some other way to continue
To hide my face


I wait in the cold Autumn night, hugging my body warmly. He promised he would be here. I wait, watching the moon gradually slope down over the horizon. The golden colours of the rays dance over the trees. It is exactly the same place where we last talked. It is a month later, when bright pink blossom has been replaced by crusty red leaves, when the temperature has transformed from a simmering heat, to a chilly air. The grass ripples like millions of silhouetted fingers, bowing back and forth in the wind. It is then that I see him. My secret lover, my Draco. He is completely clad in black, wearing a twisted expression. He comes towards me, eyes a bloodshot red. In his hands, he bears a package. Without speaking, he unwraps it and slides out a vicious bladed dagger. It is jewelled, encrusted with gleaming red rubies, sea green pearls, and amber coloured skulls. He kissed the blade, though not lovingly, with a detached satisfaction.

Another knife in my hands
A stain that never comes off the sheets

“You are going to wish you had not agreed to meet me tonight, Granger.”

I eye the weapon shrewdly, but even though his eyes appear to glitter with justice, I do not believe him. “You love me. The only reason you came, was so that we could talk.” I keep my voice steady, but as every second passes, it proves more difficult. The knife does not return to the ripped package, it remains clasped in his fingers. “You would never hurt me, despite what the Dark Lord said.”

Draco shook his head. “It is a job. Whether I love you or not is irrelevant, I simply wished to explain before I- well, end the life I have been ordered to end.” I reach out to take the knife from his trembling hands, but he slips the weapon inside his pocket. “I cannot go against his word. I know you want me to be as valiant as Potter, but I can never be.” His words were like poison to my soul. “I could never sacrifice myself. I am not that kind of person.” Without another sound, he takes a small, dragon skin book from his other pocket, opens it and I shriek. Inside are the names of all his victims, all those people whose lives he has taken. I recognise some, others not, but that does not matter.

The point is, I fell in love with a murderer.

I’m so dirty babe
The kind of dirty where the water never cleans off the clothes
I keep a book of the names and those

He kneels slowly down to the dark grass, past deaths still clasped in his hands. Placing the book beside an old, gnarled oak, Draco takes out his wand and taps the ground. He closes his eyes and whispers a spell. I watch, almost hypnotised as the grass before us opens up. Within minutes, there is a gaping hole. He picks up the book, waits a moment before dropping it into the pit.

Oh go so far
Till you bur them
So deep and down we go

I do not question his move, I am confused anyway and desperately want to talk with him. Is he really planning to kill me? The knife is still in his grip, but the now wavering tip points harmlessly down to the ground. I watch as the emotion in his eyes turns from determination to disgust. He raises the dagger, sighs and return it to his robes. I rest my head gently, with tenderness and comfort against his chest. “You do not have to do this,” I console, hearing his heart beat ever faster as the situation crushes in upon him.

It is then that I finally understand. However much he may love me, Draco is not a born hero. Inside he is crumbling from cowardice, achingly chilled by the thought of dying. He tries to speak, but I press my finger onto his lips, preventing words. Now, it seems I do not wish to hear his reasons, can tell just from the escalating pace of his slowly shrivelling heart, but after a moment, he pushes my hands away, fixing me with water-filled eyes.

“I have to do it,” Draco murmurs quietly, resting his face in both hands again. “It is my duty to the Dark Lord.”

I cannot help it, and scream the sentence even before he has finished his own. “And what about your duty to me, to us?”

There is silence, except for the sombre hymn of nature. A calm wind whispers past us, soaring high over the grass. The moon is not full tonight, but shaped like a sideways sneer. For some reason, the sight scares me. No werewolves are heard, no calling birds, no crying Hippogriffs. Just silence. I look at my lover, waiting for his response. It is not long before I hear it.

“You do not understand,” Draco trembles against my shoulder, “I cannot help it. I do love you, but I am driven by the thought and excitable guarantee of power. If I kill you I will gain so much respect, and be looked at with wonder and terror from the other Death Eaters. That is what I crave, what I live for. I love to have the feeling of being completely indestructible. I want to do this for the rest of my life.”

Touched by angels
Though I fall out of grace
I did it all so maybe
I’d live this everyday

Draco recovers the knife once more, and sits upon the grass; a pensive frown furrowing his brow. “I wish I could stop myself,” he hissed. “But even if you begged me to stop, I would not be able to resist the blood, the stench of supremacy.”

Another knife in my hands
A stain that never comes off
The sheets
Clean me off

“The decaying stain of imperfection lies deep within me,” he presses on. “All Mudbloods (except you) deserve to rot upon this earth. . “I want to kill, and keep killing. It is really hard to explain, but there is no stopping my beliefs.” Draco paused, a hungry look in his eyes. “As it is my belief that certain people shall meet an inevitable end. May Merlin have no mercy on their soul.”

I nod despairingly, knowing that his reference is to Harry. Throughout all of the last school year, I did all he could to make him understand, and on most issues he did, but with others it was clear that I would get nowhere. Hate is a hard, heavy word, and when felt for six years is impossible to clear.

“I do this for myself, for my own sadistic pleasures, not for others. I take great pride in seeing the bodies, knowing that it is all my work, I did it. Now, you can try and clean away this impurity,” Draco whispers, “But you will never succeed because it is a part of me. It is who I am.”

I’m so dirty babe
It ain’t the money and it sure as hell ain’t just for the fame
It’s for the bodies I claim and lose

I watch, mouth open as he summons more books with his wand. He does not need to inform me what these are, I know from the way he is smiling. I know from the way he is crying. Draco has killed many more people than I had originally thought. He drops the books into the pit, contempt flooding his features. But is not contempt for the names of the dead, it is towards the sinful acts that he has performed. I realise now how much he is hurting; torn between a lust for power and a lust for intrepidness.

He cannot stop his feelings, and I cannot stop mine. Even after all these things he has done, I still love him. Why? I cannot begin to say. Love is a strange creature. It lifts you up when you are down. It destroys you, but it also has the frustrating aptitude to provide questions without answers. The tears that align his grey eyes pour helplessly down his face. He yearns to be as others are, to live as others do; not solely a walking contradiction. Draco throws a handful more books into the pit.

And down we go
And down we go
And down we go
And we all, fall, down, right now

Draco pauses, then drives the blade deep inside me. I choke, and splutter falling to the floor, already feeling the blood rush over me. My hand flies to the wound, trying to stop the flow but it is insistent,, like a never –ending flood of red ribbons. I do not blame him for what he has done. He had no choice, but nevertheless I cannot stop my heart from breaking, searing apart. So close to death, I am not sure as to whether my term is meant literally, whether it is really corroding away, but as I stare up at him through blurry eyes of twisted turmoil, I find I am not caring in the least. The torture I feel is not physical, it is emotional. When I die, I feel I shall never see him for a second time. Draco sniffs, and with a shuddering breath, I voice these fears.

He weeps over my fading body. “I’m sorry”, he gasps. Shaking, he bends further over my bleeding figure, screaming. “I’ll never leave you”, he promises. “Please. Don’t let go. Promise me you won't let go.”


And with her final breath, my seraph, the angel of my distant dreams, whispers, “I promise.”

And we’ll all dance alone
To the tune of your death
We’ll love again
We’ll laugh again
And it’s better off this way

“But this is it,” I vow.

And never again
And never again
They gave us two shots to the back of the head
And we’re all dead now

“I will try to stop it. I shall try to stop everything. For you.” Though even as I say this, I know it is not true. Perhaps I will try to break away from him. One night.

I did.

We’ll never again
And never again
They gave us two shots to the back of the head
And we’re all dead now

I tried . . . .
One more night

I died.

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